


infinity in the palm of your hand

by mousecookie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb Widogast is a Mess, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temporary Character Death, alternate ending to c2e116, because we were all thinking it at some point, don't worry he'll be okay, written pre-117
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27605843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousecookie/pseuds/mousecookie
Summary: At the end of the blood-spattered Aeorian hall, the Mighty Nein find a rusted iron door.They also find Essek.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Comments: 44
Kudos: 384





	infinity in the palm of your hand

**Author's Note:**

> I highly doubted Essek would be among the slain in the Dynasty adventuring party in Episode 116 (pretty sure Matt Mercer wouldn't kill a favorite NPC offscreen), but I can't deny I didn't dread it all the same! In the end, I figured it was as good an excuse as any to bring floaty hotboi home from war and back with the Mighty Nein where he belongs.
> 
> If you have concerns about the Major Character Death tag, pop down and check out the notes at the end.

Caleb was not at the front of the Mighty Nein as they traversed the chilly, blood-spattered Aeorian hall. 

It made the most sense, as it always did, for him to be comfortably cushioned in the middle of his more armored friends.

He was especially glad of the insulation today. It wasn't just as a matter of safety; finding the slain Dynasty party had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He counted the wall lights as they passed - _eleven, twelve, thirteen_ \- to distract himself from the terrified moment of discovery when, in his mind’s eye, each fallen drow had for a split second born Essek’s face.

 _Just because the Dynasty has scouts here, does not mean Essek is here,_ he told himself.

It didn’t matter that Essek's brilliance and acuity would no doubt be a perfect fit for navigating the arcane mysteries of Aeor. It didn’t matter that Essek had told them he didn’t trust others to discover magical secrets, and would no doubt want to be involved personally. 

Count the lights, count the lights. _Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen--_

“Oh my gosh, _Essek!”_

Jester’s voice, sharp with distress, pierced the cocoon of false security Caleb was weaving around himself. His blood turned to ice, the air in his lungs to shards of glass. He pushed to the front of the group, caution be damned, stride in stride with Jester as they rushed past the last set of lights to the end of the hall. He barely registered the heavy iron door, sealed tight, in favor of falling to his knees in front of the crumpled figure next to it.

It took Caleb’s grief-blank mind a moment to recognize Essek in the body before him. The drow mage was propped against the wall like a doll cast aside, his features were transformed by the horrible paleness of death. His face was ashen-grey and slack. A line of blood spilled from his mouth down his chin. More dark stains on his front drew attention to vicious stab and slash wounds, distinct in their savagery, piercing easily through Essek’s thick winter finery.

There was a heart-wrenching, strangled noise, and Caleb realized distantly that it had come from himself.

“No,” he said shakily, and took Essek’s face in his hands. His flesh was cool, but not frozen, just like the bodies in the hall. Maybe it was not too late. “Caduceus,” he croaked, mouth gone dry. “You can raise him, ja? We can fix this.” 

“I don’t have it prepared,” Caduceus replied, regretful and full of compassion. “I could do it tomorrow.”

“Then-- Jester--” 

“It’s been too long for Revivify,” Jester answered, her voice thick with tears. “It has to be within a minute. It’s been longer than that just walking up here to see him.” She took one of Essek’s hands in her own, and her posture broke further. “He’s so cold,” she cried. “We can’t leave him here, you guys, we have to bring him back.”

Caleb felt a small, comforting hand on his back, and knew it was Veth.

“Raise Dead is an option, tomorrow. And I'm in favor," Caduceus said quietly. "But... I feel it has to be said, just for transparency here - raising the dead takes twice as many diamonds as Revivify, and we don’t have that many to begin with. If we use them to resurrect Essek, we may not be able to help more than one of us later, and we've seen what Lucien is capable of. I’m not saying there’s a _should_ , one way or the other. It’s just information.”

“Of course we’re bringing him back,” Jester said, offended. “How could we not bring back one of our friends?”

“It’s just information, like I said,” Caduceus repeated. “And I think he deserves to live. But I’m willing to do whatever we collectively decide.”

“Maybe this is his justice,” Veth said. “I know we sort of decided to adopt him, but he’s still done a lot of bad things. Maybe this is a natural course. Retribution.”

“I have done a lot of bad things,” Caleb reminded her, an edge to his voice. “Should I die here as well? I am inclined to believe I deserve it as much as he does.”

“No, of course not!” Veth protested. “You’re-- that’s different. He threw my husband in prison.”

“Is that alone worth his death?”

“Yes! Of course it is!”

“Well, he has experienced dying now. If he comes back, will your need for justice remain satisfied?”

“It’s not that simple!”

“Well, _I_ vote to bring him back,” Jester cut in.

“I do too,” Caleb said quickly.

“Of course you do,” Veth grumbled, but patted his shoulder, and sighed. “Well?” She looked at the rest of them.

“I’m in favor,” Beau spoke up. “He could know valuable information about Lucien. And, you know, we did sort of welcome him into the Mighty Nein. Going back on that wouldn't taste right.”

“I agree with Beau,” Yasha said softly. “He… had a lot of growing to do, and he only just started. I know what that’s like.”

“I don’t like that we’d be using diamonds we might need later,” Fjord added, crossing his arms, “But Beau’s right. And we did tell him we would give him another chance. I don’t think any of us expected it to be this literal, but here we are.”

“Fine!” Veth threw up her hands. “You’ve overruled me. I still don’t forgive him, though.”

“And you don’t have to, until you need or want to do it for yourself,” Caduceus assured her.

“So it is settled,” Caleb said decisively. “What should we do between now and tomorrow? Rest here? Take him with us? We can’t be sure we’re coming back this way.” He thought briefly of Dagen, alone at the mouth of the tunnel, and idly hoped they’d find artifacts worth enough to give their guide the additional payment he was expecting.

Beau shifted uncomfortably. “I hate to suggest it, but… we could put him in the necklace with DeRogna until we’re ready.”

Caleb’s gut clenched in revulsion at the idea of packing Essek’s body like luggage. Even worse that it would be with the corpse of a member of the Cerberus Assembly. But he also knew it was practical. 

“I don’t like it. But I agree,” he said thickly.

 _I’m so sorry, Essek,_ he thought, taking Essek’s hand in both of his own. 

Then he frowned, and looked closer. Essek had apparently kept this hand in a tight fist as he died. It was still clenched that way now, rigid with cold. Caleb carefully lifted it and turned it over, tracing the line of Essek’s knuckles. There was something shiny, just barely escaping between his fingers. Glittering. Was it ice crystals? No, it was hard, like sand. _Diamond dust._

Caleb cast _detect magic,_ barely giving it a thought. Essek’s hand flared with light as though he kept a small star captured in his grip. 

“He’s got something here,” Caleb told the group, awareness prickling. Something the Tomb Takers had missed in their search? Something Essek decided to protect with his last conscious effort? Surely it would be terribly important. He rubbed Essek’s stiff fingers, and breathed heat on them, trying to coax them open. “Come, my friend, let me see what you have,” he murmured. “Let me help you.” 

Essek was stubborn, even in death. It took both the Rod of Hand-Warming and a carefully-controlled flame from Caleb to work some flexibility into his joints. But finally, under Caleb’s gentle insistence, his fingers released their hold.

A scattering of diamond dust and a little golden hourglass fell into Caleb’s palm.

“He was casting,” Caleb breathed. “But these components - I do not recognize what they are for.” He stared at Essek’s ashen face, as though with enough looking, he could derive the answer. The only information he found was the stark contrast to how Essek had looked in life. Silvery eyes no longer bright, still just barely open, but unseeing. Unknowing. Empty. Caleb felt empty himself, the longer he stared.

“Maybe it was something he knew could hurt Lucien,” Fjord suggested. “One last ‘fuck you’.”

“That would be useful to know, but only if we can cast it too,” Beau said. “Did they take his spellbook?”

A cursory search revealed that like the other bodies, Essek had been picked clean of his belongings.

“It is not here,” Caleb confirmed. “And, a wrist-pocket spell would be dispelled upon his death. It is likely Lucien’s people took it along with the rest.”

“So it might not matter what he was casting,” Beau murmured. “Shit.”

Caleb was looking at Essek’s face again. Unthinking, he reached to thumb away the trail of blood from his mouth, soothing over a split lip. _We will take care of you,_ he promised. _Your last memories will not be of cold and pain and loneliness. You deserve your chance to be better, and I’ll make sure you get it._

He slipped his hand into Essek’s now-empty one, and gave it a small squeeze, feeling the slight rasp of stray diamond dust caught between them. Essek’s skin was warmer now, thanks to their attention, and Caleb half expected to feel movement in return. It reminded him of the first time the Essek had transported them as a group, where they’d stood in a circle and held hands at his bidding. Essek himself had left one hand free to cast. The other, he'd offered to Caleb.

 _I know now that holding hands is not a requirement of the teleportation spell,_ Caleb thought wryly. _I hope I have the opportunity to tease you about it, one day._

“Do you think there are any beacons around here?” Fjord was saying. “Because he’s consecuted, right? What if his soul gets, you know,” he made a slurping sound, " _Szchooped_ in there, and we can’t get him out?”

“I think the people in Balenpost would know if consecuted Dynasty nobility were constantly showing up in the people born there,” Beau said, leaning on her staff as she thought. “And like, how many people are born in this area anyway? Not exactly a great place to raise a family.”

“People are adaptable,” Caduceus countered, shaking his head. “You remember the yeti. I guarantee there are families, babies being born, and thriving here.”

“So… he could be reborn already as a baby yeti?” Jester sniffled and wiped her nose, before choking on a giggle. “That would be kinda cute, you know.” 

“Cute as it might be, I cannot imagine Essek would prefer it,” Caleb said, imagining the scandalized look on Essek’s face if he could hear them talking like this. He shook his head and huffed a weak laugh. “Look at us. Our friend is dead, and we are discussing absurdities.”

“He’d expect it from us,” Beau grunted, though her voice was a little rougher than normal. “Let’s be real.”

Caleb sighed, pained and fond at once. “Ja, you are probably right.”

“If we’re pausing here, I’ll do a quick Prayer of Healing,” Caduceus volunteered. “I was going to wait until later, but I think we could all use a little boost, especially after a shock like this.”

“We should conserve our spellcasting,” Fjord said pragmatically.

“Just a ritual casting, nothing fancy,” Caduceus assured him. “I just find it really helps, in times like these, that people's physical bodies are cared for, when their hearts are hurting in a way that magic can’t touch.”

Beau cleared her throat. “I’m actually gonna go back and check the bodies in the hall again. See if we missed anything.” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, but her eyes were fixed on Essek.

“You could stay for the healing first,” Caduceus suggested gently.

“Nah, I need-- a moment,” Beau said gruffly, and strode away down the hall.

Yasha silently moved to follow her.

Caduceus watched them go, eyes thoughtful but understanding. “Alright, just us, then,” he murmured, and settled cross-legged on the stone floor. “Here we go.”

The firbolg began a slow, methodical chant, the words resonating in the small space - not loud, but holding a tangible power. 

Caleb wondered how many times Caduceus had done something like this for mourning visitors to the Blooming Grove. Hundreds? More? Helping others deal with grief seemed to be a habit Caduceus had worn smooth with practice. For a bizarre second, Caleb resented it. Essek dying was not like any stranger dying, far away in the Savalierwood. Essek was important and different. Some "tried and true" method of coping with death shouldn't _work_ , shouldn't be _enough_. Essek meant too much to Caleb for his passing to be labeled as any kind of ordinary. 

Caught in this intense spasm of grief, Caleb had half a mind to leave like Beau had done - to shield his hurts from healing, so that they'd match how he felt on the inside. Damn Caduceus's guidance. But walking away would mean leaving Essek, and Caleb couldn't do that. He stayed miserably where he was.

The healing spell began to take hold. Caleb felt some of his aches ease, and although his lungs were still choked with anxiety and upset... he felt better, just a tiny bit, just as Caduceus had predicted. Like there was more room in his head for thinking. More space for feeling. Caleb felt a stab of shame at his ungrateful thoughts from only moments before, and mentally shook himself - of _course_ Caduceus knew what he was doing, and it had nothing to do with how much Essek meant to him. The evidence was obvious in the way Jester’s shoulders slump minutely in relief. Fjord’s rigid stance relaxed a little, and he heard Veth sigh behind him. He could tell they were all just a fraction more prepared to deal with the situation.

And then he looked back at Essek just in time to see the tiny cut on his lip diminish, and vanish.

Essek was _healing_.

“Caduceus,” Caleb said urgently, pulse hammering in his throat. “You cannot heal what is dead, can you? There should be nothing to heal.” 

There was a very long minute where Caduceus, still mid-casting, could not reply. The others clustered around Essek again and leaned close. 

“He’s definitely not breathing,” Jester said, pressing her hand to Essek’s ruined chest, heedless of the sticky blood.

“And he is too cold,” Caleb agreed. “But his lip was split before. And now, it is not.”

Hope was a fragile thing, like the tender shoots of spring in frozen earth, but it grew in Caleb’s heart nonetheless. If Essek was still alive, there was no need for a costly resurrection that might fail. There would be no risk of his soul being snatched by a Luxon beacon. They could heal him, and he'd be fine. Essek would be fine.

“Sorry, what was it you said?” Caduceus asked as the spell ended, opening his eyes serenely. “I apologize, I didn’t want to stop in the middle.”

“He’s alive,” Caleb said, wishing that by saying the words he could cement their truth. “Essek is _alive,_ Caduceus. He was healing during your spell. Did you cast it on him as well as us?”

Caduceus unfolded from his lotus posture to join them at Essek’s side. “Huh! Yeah, I did, but I didn’t expect that to do anything. I just chose six focus points, since there were six of us here, including him.”

“But how is he alive?” Veth said. “He’s been here for almost a week, probably, like the others. Look at his chest! He’s been sliced up pretty good. And look at those eyes! He looks, well… dead.”

“But he’s not, if he’s healing,” Caduceus said, gently thumbing each of Essek’s eyelids open. “Someone shine a light here.”

Caleb summoned a single dancing light to hover in front of Essek’s face, casting his features into sharp relief. The light stayed steady, even if Caleb's anxious hands did not. He plucked at his sleeves and twisted the fabric against his wrists.

“His pupils aren’t reacting,” Caduceus hummed, squinting. “Or, wait - yes they are. It’s just very, very slow. You’re right, he’s alive!” The firblog smiled at the group. "Some good news today. Wonderful." 

“ _Sonuvabitch._ I knew he was too stubborn to die here,” Beau said, having been drawn back from the hall by the commotion, Yasha at her shoulder. She surreptitiously wiped at her eyes.

“Is he trancing?” Jester asked, peering closely at one of Essek’s silver-grey eyes.

“It wouldn’t save him from a mortal wound like this one,” Caduceus replied, examining his ravaged chest.

“Yeah, trancing is just like… efficient sleep, where you’re sort of meditating instead of being completely unaware,” Beau added. “Whatever this is, it's not that."

Caleb held up the little golden hourglass. “I suspect it has something to do with this. Some kind of temporal stasis. We thought he was preparing to cast, but what if he succeeded? And this is what was left behind? He could be in the throes of such a spell, now.”

“Then we better figure out what that spell was,” Beau returned. There were wheels turning in her expression as she locked eyes with Caleb, mutually united in their fervent desire to _know_.

Caleb scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Let's think through it. I know spellcasting logic, and I know our friend here. We have the information in front of us. We can puzzle it out.”

“In the meantime, we should probably heal him up a bit more,” Caduceus said, sitting back on his heels. “Wouldn’t want to break him out of whatever state he’s in, and have him bleed out on us.”

“Yes, good idea,” Caleb agreed absently, as both clerics got to work. His mind was whirring. He got up and began to pace, just a few steps back and forth, mentally painting images to match the sequence of possible events. “He cast this spell to save his skin at the last minute. He ran or magically jumped here, away from the others, but likely could not get through this door. Too weak, or didn't have the time. So he sat, or fell, close to death, and decided to… to freeze time for himself, somehow. Arrange it so that he would not die, but he would look dead, and the Tomb Takers would be fooled into not finishing the job.” 

He held the hourglass up to the light. It was a pretty, delicate thing, made of golden filigree, blown glass as thin as a soap bubble, and a thimbleful of black sand filtering back and forth inside it. 

“This is the key, obviously,” Caleb muttered. “Essek took great pains to make sure the Tomb Takers missed it in their search.”

“Looks fragile,” Beau commented. “What if we smash it?”

Caleb tilted his head, considering, then nodded. “You know, ordinarily I might argue with your generous application of “we should hit it” as a solution, but I think you may have it right in this case."

“Fuck yeah I do,” Beau grinned. “Violence solves _some_ problems.”

“He’s what… trapped time in that thing? Just for himself?” Fjord asked. "Couldn't we just dispel it, or use a Greater Restoration?"

"I don't know how strong either of those spells would need to be to beat this, if they are applicable at all," Caleb said, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. "What if we drain our reserves, and he is still the same? This spell has our friend's particular signature to it. If he designed it, I am guessing the solution is meant to be... something elegant."

"Like breaking an hourglass that literally holds time?" Fjord asked, amusement creeping into his tone. "Dramatic."

"Exactly." Caleb answered. "He is a dramatic fellow. Once we break it, I think the temporal bubble will pop, and time will flow normally for him again.”

“These healing spells aren’t working very fast at all, so he's definitely moving slower right now," Jester commented, wiping her brow. “He doesn’t look that much better than when we started, and we're giving him like, _real_ healing.”

“With luck, that healing power should all set in at once when the enchantment dissipates,” Caleb said. “I think it is our best shot.”

Everyone sat and digested that information for a moment.

“Man, I’m glad we didn’t put him in your necklace,” Beau grunted, lacing her fingers together on top of her head. “He’d have suffocated and been dead for real.”

There was a collective shudder from the group. Caleb felt nauseated all over again, imagining Essek running out of air, trapped in an amber prison of Caleb's own making. He was glad when Caduceus dusted his hands off and stood, interrupting his unwelcome thoughts.

“Okay, I think we’ve done what we can for the moment,” Caduceus said. “We have to keep a little reserve. We’re not out of these woods yet.”

“Okay,” Caleb agreed. He looked around at the rest of the Nein. Their faces were hopeful and fearful at the same time, and he knew that he probably looked the same. “Well… here we go.” 

He put the little hourglass on the floor, and crushed it with a decisive stomp of his boot.

Immediately Essek’s body convulsed, and he made a horrible noise - a wet, rattling inhale that quickly became a cough. Color rushed back to his face and limbs, his most grievous wounds receded, and his eyes bloomed with awareness. The transformation was surreal and not a little disturbing after seeing Essek look so convincingly dead, but also one of the most welcoming sights Caleb had ever seen. Seeing Essek take lungfuls of air made Caleb feel like he could breathe properly again, too.

His calm was short-lived, however, as Essek's first conscious reaction to being surrounded by people was to recoil and lash out.

“Hey, hey, it’s us!” Jester yelped, fending off a panicked blow. “It’s Jester! It’s the Mighty Nein!”

Caleb rushed to kneel at Essek’s other side, and promptly caught an elbow to his eyebrow for the trouble. “Essek! It is us! You are safe!”

Between Jester and Caleb, they captured Essek’s hands and pinned him back against the wall. He bucked and writhed with surprising strength, considering his injuries, and only once his eyes focused on them did his struggles abruptly cease.

For a moment, all was quiet except for the uncomfortable rattle of Essek’s panting breaths.

“Am I hallucinating?” Essek asked, finally. His voice was a rasp, his eyes wild.

“Good guess,” Caleb told him, grin lopsided in relief. “But no. You are just very, very lucky, Essek Thelyss. We just happen to be, ah, in town.” Cautiously, he released his restraining hold, and Jester did the same.

Thus freed, Essek frowned down at his front, which was no longer sliced to ribbons, and patted over it with clumsy fingers. Then he leaned back against the wall, exhausted by this small effort. “What- I don't understand. How are you here?" He glanced between their faces like he was still unsure if they were real. "Is this some trick?"

"If it was, would we tell you?" Beau said, a shit-eating grin on her face.

Essek's expression flickered between irritation and disbelief, before settling into something that looked dangerously like hope. "I will say, the rudeness is convincing. How long has it been? What-" he stopped to cough, grimacing as old blood hit his tongue, "-happened to my spell?”

Caleb held up the smashed hourglass for Essek's inspection, eyes twinkling. "I think I figured it out."

Essek blinked, then sighed and smiled, closing his eyes for a moment. "So you did." 

Caleb pocketed the hourglass, and fidgeted, wanting to reach for Essek, wanting to feel the warmth that was beginning to return to his skin. He wanted to erase the memory of Essek feeling too-cold and still. To smooth his messy white hair away from his forehead. To hold him in a crushing hug to feel the rise and fall of his ribs, and the hot puff of his breath. He wanted to smother his senses in the fact that Essek was _alive_. But these impulses would all be inappropriate at this particular moment. There was too much going on.

He rubbed pensively at his own arms instead.

“You were under for less than a week, we think,” Beau told Essek. “Enough to get cold and look super dead. You see what got you?”

“Oh, very clearly,” Essek said, grimacing. “An accomplished mercenary group, well-armed, and very quiet. We didn’t know they were there until they were upon us.”

“Anyone in particular stand out to you?” Beau pressed. “Anything… weird?”

Essek swallowed, his gaze going distant for a moment. “A tiefling. Tattoos, glowing red eyes. He… he did something to our cleric. It did not look… pleasant. I didn’t want it to happen to me.”

“Blood from all the, uh, orifices?”

Essek’s eyes drifted shut, and he shuddered. “That’s the one.” Caleb's resolve to keep his hands to himself crumbled. He moved closer and put a bracing hand on Essek’s shoulder. Essek sighed, and leaned into it. “You haven’t answered my question,” Essek continued, forcing his eyes open again. “What are you all doing here?” 

There was an awkward pause. The Mighty Nein exchanged rapid glances.

“Weeeeell,” Jester said. “It started as a job--”

“Escorting someone--” Veth cut in.

“No one of particular importance, though--” Fjord quickly added.

There was then a furiously whispered conversation between Beau and Veth, which was (comically, Caleb thought) still fully audible due to the small space. 

_"I don’t think Essek would care, would he? He didn't even like her.”_

_"Let’s not find out. He might be mad.”_

_"He’ll probably find out soon anyway!”_

_“Yeah, but--”_

“It was Vess DeRogna,” Caleb interrupted bluntly, losing patience. “She’s dead. Turns out we are not so great at the bodyguard detail.”

Essek blinked once, slowly. “Oh. That is… a lot to take in.”

“We’re now on the tail of the tiefling you met,” Caleb continued. “We used to know him.”

“We used to know _Molly_ ,” Jester corrected, shoulders slumping. “This guy… he’s not Molly anymore.”

Essek looked between them, gears turning in his expression. “This tiefling is who you have named your hot tub for?” His brow creased, clearly attempting to reconcile the bloodthirsty mercenary with the Mighty Nein’s fond stories in Rosohna.

“No, no,” Caleb backtracked. “Jester is right. Who you met-- he is--” he dropped his gaze, unable to hold eye contact as emotion suddenly choked up his lungs, “He is not who we once knew. And not in a figurative way. It is a long, complex story, and we don’t know all of it, but… it is perhaps simplest to say that the tiefling you met is a stranger, called Lucien, who is wearing our friend’s face.”

Caleb hadn't expected the words to hurt so much to say. He considered himself very good at rationalizing and compartmentalizing his feelings. It had been part of his Vollstrecker training, once upon a time, and even years later it was a nearly instinctive response to anything upsetting. But for whatever reason, it struck him deeply now that while he knew intellectually that Lucien was strutting around in Mollymauk's shape, Caleb hadn't seen him yet with his own eyes. Jester had done all the scrying and reported to the rest of the Nein what she'd seen. If they met Lucien here in the frigid underground labyrinth, as they undoubtedly soon would, it would be the first time Caleb was seeing Mollymauk's face again. And it wouldn't be him. It wouldn't be Molly.

All of a sudden, he dreaded it. It would be like losing him all over again.

Caleb felt a hand cover his own, a little chilly with a rasp of diamond dust. “That cannot be easy,” Essek murmured, eyes soft.

“Hey! Look at that, he’s getting better already,” said Caduceus, beaming with approval. “Compassion! Good work, Essek, you should be very proud of that.”

Essek’s ears and cheeks were too frostbitten to betray a blush, but he shifted uncomfortably.

“No, it’s not easy,” Caleb agreed, acting as though Caduceus hadn’t spoken to spare both Essek and himself the mortification. “And whoever he is now, he is very powerful, as you’ve seen. But he stole something from Vess DeRogna - er, stole it back - and we think he means to do ill with it. That is why we’re still here.”

“Wanna help?” Beau grinned. “We could use someone who floats in this topsy-turvy hellscape.”

“I’m not sure how helpful I will be until I’ve had a good long rest,” Essek replied tiredly, “and I had to dispel my wristpocket to make my death look convincing. They have my spellbook, I’m afraid. I cannot change what I have prepared for casting.”

Caleb felt a pang of sympathetic horror. “We will get it back for you,” he said fervently.

“Whoa there, let’s go easy on promises we’re not sure we’ll be able to keep,” Fjord raised placating hands. “If we run into Lucien, and it seems likely we will in the very near future, trying to get back a spellbook might not be a confrontation we can risk.”

“We will get it back,” Caleb repeated firmly. “...prudently.”

Essek gave him a grateful look. “Then I would be a fool to refuse such an invitation. I assume our sentry at the cave mouth is dead?” There were nods. Jester looked faux-innocently at the ceiling, no doubt remembering the head she had cleaved from the sentry's dead body. They certainly didn't need to question it now. Essek continued, “Then I am the last of my party here, with no supplies, very little magic left, no spellbook, and no way to get home."

“But you’ve got your friends with you,” Jester cajoled, abandoning her slightly guilty expression in favor of giving him a playful nudge.

“Still friends, then? I’m very… I’m very glad to hear that,” Essek sighed, relief plain on his face.

“Yes, you are stuck with us, it seems,” Caleb replied, smiling slightly.

Essek smiled tentatively back.

They were so close, it would be so easy to lean in. Easy to kiss the chill from Essek's lips, easy to hold on and never let go. He wondered if Essek would let him. By the way he was looking at Caleb now, the chances were... not ill in his favor.

“Ohh boy,” Beau said. “We’ve lost them to a flirty staring contest. Welp, guys, how are we gonna get through this door? Doesn’t look like it opens.” 

“Oh, I can help with that,” Essek said lazily, with a shine of his old arrogance. His eyes remained locked with Caleb’s. 

_I have missed you,_ Caleb thought fiercely. _And it took almost losing you to realize how much._

“Well?” Beau said expectantly.

“It is an arcane lock, requiring the sacrifice of spellcasting energy. Someone will need to cast spells into it, until it opens.” Essek said, shifting to get to his feet. “I have a lower-level spell left, I can show you.”

Caleb helped him up, and caught him in a half-embrace when Essek staggered on stiff, weak legs. 

“Careful,” Caleb murmured. “You have been sitting there for quite some time. Can you float?”

"I think so," Essek replied, a little winded. He remained heavy in Caleb's arms, however, and Caleb did not let him go. If anything, he held on tighter.

Veth made a dissatisfied _hmpf_. “Now that you’re all better, aren’t you going to thank everyone for saving your life?” she asked archly, hands on her hips.

“Ah--” Essek fidgeted, then gave them all a winning smile. “Thank you. Consider most of your debt to me repaid.”

“Most? Wow, that’s big of you,” Beau said, dry and amused.

“It is a long list,” Essek said mildly. “Consider it an expression of just how grateful I am to you all.”

“Caleb was the one who realized you weren’t dead in the first place,” Beau said, a glint of wickedness creeping in. "He was paying _real_ close attention. He should probably get some extra gratitude."

“ _And_ he figured out how to break the spell,” Veth said, clearly struggling to hold onto her ire but unable to pass up an opportunity to praise Caleb. “He’s _very_ smart.”

“He thought a kiss would wake you up,” Jester added slyly.

“No, I did not! That is not what I suggested!” Caleb shot back, feeling his cheeks go hot. He turned to Essek, who he was still supporting, and found their faces much closer together than he was expecting. His next words came out softer, quieter. “I did not suggest that.”

“I believe you,” Essek told him, silver eyes hooded, a teasing lilt at the corner of his mouth. "Though it is an intriguing idea. Perhaps I should revise the spell."

Caleb’s laugh caught in his throat, a tangled mixture of joy and embarrassment and longing. He hoped that some day soon, he'd have the opportunity to speak with Essek when they weren't on a battlefield, or on the cusp of war, where there were so many distractions to interrupt and complicate things. Where he didn't have his six closest friends standing in close audience to his every word and move. Somewhere he could be with Essek alone. But until then, he had these moments. Each one was precious, seconds stretching long - not caused by any magic, but by force of will and desire. Caleb would savor as many as he could.

The future was never certain.

“Aaand we’ve lost them again,” Fjord sighed, cracking his knuckles. “Alright, what am I going to cast in this door?”

“Please, allow me to contribute,” Essek insisted, looking away from Caleb with apparent reluctance. “After all, what is a small favor between friends, hm?” With a glimmer of magic, he easily lifted from Caleb's support to float under his own power. Their hands brushed as he moved away. "I've come across these mechanisms in my research," Essek explained, hovering in front of the shelf built into the iron door. "It is done thus." With a gesture and a murmur, he sent a jolt of magical energy into the door. A segment of symbols in the arcane lock lit up. "It will require... five more spells of similar low caliber, I believe, or fewer if they are more advanced."

"I have a few to spare," Caleb said, standing at Essek's side. They shared a sidelong glance. And then Caleb took a deep breath and began to cast. 

Whatever happened next, Essek would be with them.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so he wasn't actually dead, but I felt the misunderstanding and the Nein's reactions merited the tags! The spell Essek cast is indeed a modified form of Temporal Stasis from 3.5e (let's assume he's playing fast and loose with dunamancy, per usual. The nerd.) 
> 
> The title is from the classic William Blake poem, _Auguries of Innocence_. It's a little too on the nose, I know, but I couldn't resist.
> 
> _To see a World in a Grain of Sand  
>  And a Heaven in a Wild Flower  
> Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand  
> And Eternity in an hour_
> 
> I do more yelling about Critical Role and sometimes post art on tumblr - I'm [ariadne-mouse](https://ariadne-mouse.tumblr.com/).


End file.
